There Was A Dreamscape
by Atoms and Elements
Summary: It washed across the horizon and slipped into the open meadows, following the dips and curves of the valley that now radiated colours he'd never before seen in dreams. Dream-fic.


_**A/N: **_**Hey here's me procrastinating writing a one-shot giftfic for a friend of mine and the next chapter of Paragon. Yeah. The girl in question could be anyone it actually really doesn't matter, but I personally see her as Sakura.**

/...\

_Drabble of Sorts_

**Third Person POV:**

Off the charts of the normal scale, he found his eyes drawn to the edge of the dreamscape, where the chromatic flowers worshipped the ground. To where the shapes melded together to form grander things that he could not in the right state of mind discern. Not filled with pleasantries and cumbersome tasks, as he already was.

No, not while staring into the blinking abyss.

—_not while it creeps up my skin; please don't think it didn't—_

The startling revelations had led him through the flotsam and the jetsam to rest with the dying. Not for a moment could he say he would change it though, not even if every molecule in his body hated the current circumstances. With a showcasing sigh, with a weary sigh, with the reality of a gangrel who didn't know where to travel to next, he would not look back.

His eyes held each of the achromic objects with an unmatched tenderness (even if the rest of the world never saw it and potentially never would) until they fell upon a figure that did not match with the rest of the colour scheme. A figure that moved and breathed—

_(I thought this world did not encompass thoughts or the humans attached to them.)_

And it did not—did not hold true to anything outside of petty fantasies and forced upon imagery; and if it did not, then why did a figure occupy the farthermost corner of the dreamscape? Sitting with predetermined ease that neither spoke of anything unusual nor anything deceitful.

He could not move from where he was as roots had twined around his feet and pinned him in place. Leaden eyes watched the scene with unbridled curiosity and—_are there ropes to hold all your aspirations?_

**[Curling fingers]**

A palette hung off the figure's thumb and delicate fingers wrapped lovingly around a paintbrush. They twirled and twirled, barely brushing the bristles against the ground, leaving little swipes of green against the colourless terrain. His eyes snapped from the paint to the figure, still not certain as to whom it could be.

—_she is as colourless as you claim to be—_

Another dab of paint.

The swipes grew and grew, the paint blending into the dull objects under their feet, glittering in the bland light that came from nowhere and everywhere. She raised herself up on bruised knees to reach over and touch new places, crawling carefully from square foot to square foot. The palette swung lower and lower, but even as the paint split off, it sunk into the ground and somehow rose into the air.

It billowed up from the blades of grass to entrap the oxygen particles. The directionless light bounced off it, sending brilliant shimmers into the transparent air. The paint sunk and morphed—_into what?_—with some kind of purpose that he could not realize. Along the floor and up the walls it slinked, staining the surfaces permanently.

And they exuded the colour nearly—the held it in their finger-less hands and squeezed until it poured out. The figure stood up on two legs now, hopping from point to point, her feet leaving coloured footprints behind that somehow moved on their own accord.

_(You need not keep still if it is not what you wish to do.)_

**[He moves]**

She left imprints in the sand and the grass—in the dunes that spanned for acres with raising cliffs and wisps of dust that plumed in the air. Beyond caring what the grey scale told him, he watched as more paint was splattered along the coast lines and dumped into the seas.

For he was in a world of illusion and reality, even if it was not his own doing.

—_along the deserts and boreal forests—_

It washed across the horizon and slipped into the open meadows, following the dips and curves of the valley that now radiated colours he'd never before seen in dreams. The greens were beyond vibrant, melting into the yellows and blues that electrified his senses and set them on edge.

They spun and spun like threads that did not have starts or ends—they took turns that had his twisting his head and bending at odd angles. The lucent water that made up a waterfall he'd never laid eyes on before had him far more entranced than they he had any right to be.

**[She jumps and jumps]**

Across the terrains that painted themselves; over the hills that manifested from nothing; through the sparse array of evergreens that dotted the forest floor, she jumped on bare feet with a smile that held nothing but exuberance. The platter hung off her thumb, constantly in danger of falling off but never seeming to understand that reality.

_(What reality? This is not reality.)_

Without a coherent thought, he followed her moving footprints, keeping safe across oceans and landscapes. He did not burn under the heat of the—nonexistent—sun but rant faster. The girl evaded him time after time, even as his cheeks flushed with a colour that'd climbed up his limbs.

—_you can't catch me, try as you may—_

Even as her jumps slowed to a deliberate march, his own velocity could not keep up with hers. Somehow her shorter legs moved miles faster than his could, and perhaps it was all a dream-fantasy but he deplored it anyway.

_(You are a paralian by nature even if you choose to contest it.)_

He kept track of the wind and found that it too held colour, even if its near transparency hid that fact. The waves of the ocean he ran along lapped at the side of the cliff, leaving foamy residue behind. Its dalliance with the one it'd never possess was strangely heart-wrenching, but the boy managed to tear his mind off the peculiarity.

Beyond the spotlight and the endlights, she did eventually stop. At the edge of the cliff, precariously perched above the roaring sea that was the home of voracious maelstroms and merciless rapids. He paused momentarily as she did something unexpected and threw her palette over the edge.

For moments, everything remained unchanged and only the girl's pastel hair flapped lightly with the breeze. Then, by a sudden storm of unrelenting hysteria, the energy pulsed and _changed_.

The waves _howled_ as they crashed against the rocks below, a cacophony of pyrrhic victories that he could not understand himself. Time warped itself and allowed the sun to be born of hydrogen and helium, colouring the sky with its luminosity. There were great and terrible sights that he couldn't remember seeing in illusions or not, and they captivated him.

Holding in a breath, he felt the wind wrap around him and bite at his skin. The assemblage of colours and sensations did the trick by overwhelming him. Atmospheric conditions allowed nothing to escape yet he was blinded by the things that'd appeared from nothingness—coronations of forests that he'd never acknowledged before and the knighting of the once lacklustre arctic coves.

—_reality might not allow this but…—_

However he might've chosen to take it, the girl felt the need to smile at him again from over her shoulder, eyes still holding the highest form of ebullience in their murky depths. He wondered many things but all seemed nonsensical to think up in a dream. The offing was miles away but somehow it still seemed to be within reaching distance—_and how did you ever think this could be real?_

The startling thought punctured his heart for he knew he didn't exist in a place where colours _existed_, never mind shimmered and shone radiantly. It punctured his heart time and time again, the notion and the recollection; caused him to catch his breath and his eyes to widen.

Perhaps the awareness was what activated the neurons in his brain and caused his eyelids to flutter, but even as the colours around him were swept into a whirlpool, he could not seem to relieve him eyes off the human that stood feet away from his dream-self. There were ripples framing his vision, saving him from seeing unseemly sights, but they obstructed the girl and he did not know how he felt about that.

They strangled and strangled—strangled in their hot, clammy hands that groped at his neck—so much so that he could not breathe, not even in this sleep-universe that could not have touched him in wakefulness. Could not breathe and could barely see, as those same hands that meant to smother him and run him from this abnormal dream covered his eyes as best they could. The stranger so girl that inhabited this foreign place of colour that replaced his usual colourless nighttime visions vanished from sight, but before the whirlpool enveloped his consciousness too, words pierced the sea's bellow and found their way past his eardrums.

'_Thank you, Itachi.'_

And they swarmed behind him in cataclysmic waves but he could not bring himself to care.

\.../

_**A/N:**_** I don't think it's quite perfect as I'm not exactly back from my writer's block… Unfortunately, I have a lot to write this break and I don't know how good the quality will be…**

**Hopefully…**

**-Atom-**


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